“Got it.” Noah’s head was swimming, and he flopped right into bed without protest. “Will you shoot me if I ask you to turn off the light?”
The light went out.
“Thanks.” Noah wiggled under the covers, wishing the gin was enough to fog his troubled mind. It had only managed to reduce its gallop to a light sprint. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to grab that rum?”
“Click click.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“It was me shooting you. Come on. That was very clearly a gun cocking.” She sighed. “Just go to sleep, kid.”
Rolling over to put his back to Crybaby, Noah tried to drift off. It was weird enough sleeping with someone else in here, but his thoughts were zinging around like a ball in a pinball machine. He tossed and turned all night, stirring once or twice when he thought he heard Crybaby talking to someone.
He woke up groggy, annoyed, and hard.
The covers were pulled over his head, and he reached down to palm his dick. He could just barely feel a residual ache in his cheeks, and the ghost of Alistair’s thumb pressing inside of him flooded his cock with a surge of heat.
Fuck.
“Yous awake under there, Crisco?” Junior’s cheerful voice asked.
Noah grumbled.
“He’s awake,” Crybaby tutted.
“Well, get up already.” Junior laughed. “Mr. Star wants to have fuckin’ brunch with you. Down by the pool.”
Noah grumbled louder.
“We got some news about your uncle.”
Noah poked his head out. “Yeah?”
“You wanna know, you better get your ass downstairs.”
“Fine.” Noah got up quickly and headed into the bathroom, doing his best to hide his morning erection.
Alone, he stripped and hopped in the shower, mind racing. He didn’t know what the news about his uncle could be, but he hoped it was good. Maybe they figured out who actually killed that Carbone guy and Patrick was in the clear.
Or they found Patrick and they were gonna put his head in Noah’s bed later.
Ugh.
He washed up and willed his cock to stand down. He could not rub one out with thoughts of his uncle’s severed head kicking around, no matter how titillating it was to think about what Alistair had done to him last night.
Noah had been humiliated, degraded, stripped down… and he’d never come like that before. They hadn’t even had sex. The only thing that had been up inside of Noah was Alistair’s damn thumb.
He didn’t get what Alistair’s angle was. When Noah had tried offering himself, Alistair refused him. He didn’t know if it was part of this weird game Alistair wanted to play with Noah as his guest or what, but it didn’t make any sense to him.
There had to be a way to get through to him and rock that steely resolve somehow.
Maybe Alistair was more of a visual person.
After finishing up in the shower, Noah dried off and searched the bathroom cabinets. There was something he was sure he’d left here from a pool party a few weeks ago, and a-ha!
It was a tiny pair of rainbow speedos that barely held his cock, much less his ass, and he decided these were perfect for his morning brunch by the pool.
Junior and Crybaby, however, disagreed.
